


Sincerely Yours, Bucky Barnes

by hazeleyedwriter



Series: Sincerely Yours, Bucky Barnes [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 1940s Bucky Barnes, 1940s Steve Rogers, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bucky Barnes-centric, Bucky has three younger sisters, Canon-compliant Death, Epistolary, Established Relationship, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Steve does not become captain america, Stucky - Freeform, im sorry, semi-compliant with the first avenger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2020-11-10 19:53:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20857343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazeleyedwriter/pseuds/hazeleyedwriter
Summary: A series of letters from Bucky to Steve, following him from bootcamp, 1942 to Europe, 1944.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This idea came to me as I was transcribing letters from soldiers in WWII. I did proofread this but that does not mean there aren't rogue typos somewhere in here. Don't hold it against Bucky.

Bucky sat down on his bed in the barracks, and pulled out a piece of paper from his notebook. He filled his pen with ink and looked at the blank page. He sighed, grateful that he had a moment for himself, and began to write. 

December 10th, 1942

Dear Stevie,

I’ve finally gotten a chance to sit down and write you a letter. I got to base about a week ago, and it’s looking like I won’t be able to get leave for Christmas or New Year’s. But we’ll see. I hope I do, ‘cos I miss you. I know I’ve only been gone barely two weeks, but this is the longest we’ve ever been separated, isn’t it? Besides the time you were quarantined in the hospital in ‘35. But I don’t want to remind either of us of that time, so I won’t go on about it. 

Training is okay. They have us doing a lot of obstacle courses and apparently they’re thinking of putting me in advanced infantry training (known around here as AIT). That would mean my stay here would be extended for who knows how long. If I could say thanks no thanks I would, so I could come home and be there for longer with you and Ma and the girls before I actually got shipped out to Europe. But, that’s not how it’s gonna be. I’m sorry, bud.

I hope you’re doing as well as you can be, and that your asthma’s not actin up or anything like that. Ma is probably doting on you and making sure you have dinner every night, huh? Tell her I’m doing okay, just really busy and don’t get a lot of chances to sit down and write everyone a letter. Tell the girls I said hi too. I’ll try to keep in touch more but I can’t promise I’ll have anything interesting to say. I gotta go for now.

Sincerely yours,

Buck

—

December 25th, 1942

Dear Stevie,

Merry Christmas! This letter will probably reach you a little after the holidays, but it’s Christmas as I write this and I hope you have a good day with the family. I got your letter, and I’m glad to hear you’ve been doing alright and that Ma hasn’t been too overbearing. 

We got to decorate the base so it’s at least a little festive. And the cooks made us a special dinner of turkey, mashed potatoes, and beans. Not that the food is bad the rest of the time. It’s just not what I’m used to. Though I’ve heard from guys who have been in the army for longer than me that the chow overseas is worse. Not looking forward to that at all. I think I mentioned it in my last letter that they were thinking of putting me in AIT. Well, that’s been confirmed as of yesterday. A nice Christmas present to me from good ol’ Uncle Sam. But they did tell me when I’d get to go home afterward, so I’ll be back sometime early March. Then I get a couple weeks before I ship out to England from New York. Ma will be excited to hear that I’ll be home for my birthday. I’m counting down the days til I get to see you, though. The guys here have been exchangin stories about their girls back home and I haven’t been able to say anything to add to those conversations. Our letters are censored by the army so I won’t say too much here either. But just know I miss you. 

Have a happy holiday season and try not to get into too much trouble, though I know the look you’re giving this letter and how your response is gonna be something like, “you’re asking too much of me, Buck. Someone’s gotta fight the big man.” That person doesn’t always have to be you, Stevie, but I know you’ll be damned if it’s not. Stay safe and make sure you’re still in one piece when I get back home. I can’t hug you if you’re not. 

Lights out is coming soon so I better wrap this letter up. Tell the girls I say hi and Merry Christmas. Ma will be excited that she gets her own letter this time. Signing off for now.

Love,

Bucky

— 

January 10th, 1943

STEVIE,

You’ll never guess who I met at the local cantina the other night. Well, you have known me for over ten years so you can probably narrow it down to like three people who would make me start a letter so excitedly. A few nights ago a couple guys and I decided to sneak off base (okay maybe it’s “allowed” that we go off base on the weekends but I wanted to sound badass) and go into the nearby town for drinks where we met none other than the New York Giants’ manager Mel Ott. I haven’t swooned like that since I saw you in your new Sunday suit that you had saved up for. I was too nervous to go up to him but after some nudging from Dum Dum (that’s our nickname for this guy named Timothy Dugan. He’s a Red Sox fan but boy does he know how to tell a story and a joke) I went up to Mel and introduced myself. We talked for about twenty minutes about this season and the chances of the Giants going to the World Series. Real insider stuff, Stevie. Something finally happened to write home about. Everything else here has been same old same old, obstacle courses and exams throughout the week with a break for Sunday service. 

I’ve learned how to reload a rifle in under thirty seconds. I currently hold the base record of quickest time, which is seventeen seconds. Dum Dum is a close second with twenty. You’d like this guy, Stevie. And he’d like you. I told him about you the other day, told him about how you fought that guy who was twice your size behind the automat and how you only broke two ribs and your nose and I had to pick you up from behind the dumpster. He got a real kick out of it. His girl is back in Boston. He’s in AIT with me, so we get to go home at the same time.

I know these letters haven’t been the longest they could be, but sometimes I get too homesick to write much. I got the drawing you enclosed in your last letter though, and I keep it in the inner pocket of my uniform jacket. Thank you for that. 

I hope you’re still in one piece,

Bucky

— 

February 21st, 1943

Hey Stevie,

Sorry I haven’t written in quite a while, training was really taking it out of me so when I had a minute to sit down I was too tired to write. Basic has been over for some time now, and we’re almost done with advanced. Dum Dum won’t stop talking about how excited he is to go home to Boston to see Darlene. I’m just as excited to get to go home to see you but don’t want him to get the wrong idea. Well, the right idea. But it’d be the wrong idea to the army. Anyway, advanced training is, as the name would suggest, much tougher than basic. And basic was no walk in the park. I was promoted to Corporal at the end of basic, and there’s talk that we’ll get more promotions by the end of AIT. We’ll see. If I’m promoted to sergeant before I go over to Europe I’ll be given my own squad once I’m there. Imagine that, me, in charge of a group of guys? Let’s hope they’re not as stubborn as you. But then again, if they were, we’d win the war in no time flat. We could just march up to Hitler and punch him in the nose. Wouldn’t that be something. 

I almost forgot, tell Ma thanks for the care package. The other guys and I were really excited for the chocolate bars and shaving cream. And thank  you for the book. I haven’t been able to get to the end, but Gabe Jones, another guy here at AIT but for radio operation, saw me reading it and nearly spoiled it for me. Apparently it’s the first book with a homosexual main character that gets a happy ending? That’s all I let him tell me before I kicked him out of the barracks and he could tell me anything else. But I’m really enjoying it and look forward to getting the chance to finish it. 

Well, that’s gonna have to be all for now, I gotta go help clean up the mess hall. 

Your pal,

Bucky

— 

March 1st, 1943

Stevie,

This is gonna be my last letter sent to you from training: woohoo! We’re boarding the train on the 4th and it’s taking me straight to Grand Central Station. Tomorrow is the very last day of training and then the day after that will be spent cleaning and packing. I really did get promoted to sergeant. I guess it’s unusual for someone to get through the ranks so quickly like that, but the war has caused the army to adjust how they do business. I’m real excited to be coming home. It won’t be for too long since not only did they give me a promotion but they also gave me the date I’ll be shipping off to Europe: I leave March 20th, so I still get to be home for my birthday and then a little while after. Maybe we can get the train to Coney Island and I can try to win you one of those stuffed animals. To remember me by when I leave. I’m gonna try not to worry about not coming back once I leave the U.S. I mean, it could happen, but I don’t want to think about that just yet. And you shouldn’t either. Sorry for bringing it up. What a way to end the letter, seeing as now I have to go.

I’ll see you in a few days, Stevie. I can’t wait. Will you tell Ma about my arrival? I’d love it if you and the girls and her met me at the station. But it’s okay if it doesn’t work with your schedules. Don’t worry too much about that either. I’ll see you soon regardless.

  
Bucky


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky has finished bootcamp, been home (with Steve!) for his birthday, and is now in the European Theater.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Tuesday! I hope you're having a good week so far, but if you're not, I hope it gets better!
> 
> Also, the book Bucky mentions is called Better Angel, by Richard Meeker.

April 15th, 1943

Dear Stevie,

We finally made it to England and have set up camp. I’m learning Morse code with Gabe and Dum Dum, and we’ve met the other guys who are going to be in our squad. There’s a French guy, Dernier, and an Englishman named Falsworth. There’s also a guy from California named Jim Morita. Remember when I told you once I got promoted to sergeant I’d get to command my own men? Those guys are the ones I’ll be commanding. They’re a good group of guys, we get along just fine. There’s a little bit of a language barrier between us and Dernier, but Gabe and Falsworth translate for us when he can’t quite come up with the English phrasing.

Soon we’re heading out to mainland Europe— I can’t tell you where or what we’ll be doing, but please don’t reply to this letter because England won’t be my permanent address. I’ll send you another letter as soon as I have one.

I finished the book on the ship over here. I really liked it, and Gabe was right. I’ll try to keep it safe so it can come home with me. I don’t think we have envelopes big enough for me to send it back to you.

Agent Carter is calling us to get back into formation for more drills. She’s the English gal who’s in charge of our activities while we’re here. She and Colonel Phillips have a special kind of rivalry that fuels both of them. It’s weird. But I gotta go. I’ll write again as soon as I can.

Yours, Bucky

—

May 17th, 1943

Stevie,

I finally have a more permanent address. You should address your letters to me the way I wrote the return address on the envelope this letter came in. Including my service number. I’ll send Ma her own letter with instructions so she doesn’t hound you with questions making sure she’s doing it right. Well, she’ll probably do that anyway. But I’ll send her a letter to save you some grief.

How are you? How’s your art going? Have you heard anything from the guys at the docks? I heard that Smitty got drafted and he’s somewhere in the Pacific. Poor Anne, alone with the baby.

Speaking of kids, how are the girls? You’re making sure that Becca stays away from all the boys in her class, right? And hopefully Lizzie and Ruth are giving you trouble, but not too much. God, I miss being at home with you guys.

I’ve actually been going to the services they hold every Sunday. They don’t really help the worry. Your health isn’t giving you any more troubles than it usually does, is it? Sorry I’m askin’ all these questions. Haven’t been able to write much and I know you gave me an update last time you wrote, but I still worry. You and Ma and the girls are probably worried about me, too. I wish I could be home so we all wouldn’t have to worry. At least more than usual.

This is a depressing letter, I’m sorry. I’ll try to write something more cheery next time.

Still, forever, yours,

Bucky

—

May 22nd, 1943

Stevie,

I still can’t tell you where exactly I am in Europe, and my permanent address is just an army post office they’ve set up for the time being and mail gets directly to us when it so chooses, but I can tell you that the guys at training were right about the food. It’s horrible. We have to carry everything with us everywhere we go, including our rations, but that’s not even the worst part. I won’t go into detail because it’ll disgrace what we know as home cooking, but just know that everyone and their nana back home would be appalled. We can’t always heat it up, either.

I’ve slowly gotten used to being the officer in charge. Well, “slowly” is relative during a war. It’s more like trial by fire. They really just throw you in and hope it all goes okay. And it has, for the most part. I’m luckier than most— I haven’t lost any guys. Some sergeants aren’t as lucky. We were in a fire fight the other day and of course, I can’t go into much detail. But I can tell you that it’s no joke. It’s hard to keep up morale after getting ambushed, but I’m doing my best in that respect too. I’m scared to get too close to these guys in case the worst happens, but I’m already buddies with them because we were all in England together so it’d be too weird if I stopped joshing with them— that probably wouldn’t be good for morale either. It’ll be okay, God willing.

I haven’t gotten a letter from you lately, but then again I did tell you to wait until I gave you my permanent address and I only sent that letter out a few days ago, so it should still be some time now before I get something in the mail.

I know it’s a lot to ask but I hope you’re still waiting for me. These letters are still censored, probably even more so now that I’m actually in the war. I’m willing to risk it though, today. And I just had to ask. We heard about this guy in another company whose girl broke up with him in a letter. Talk about a mood killer. I’m gonna try to not end this letter as depressing as I did my last, so I’ll tell you about the scenery we’ve gotten to see.

Stevie, you’d love it. We keep seeing huge forests and mountain ranges that would make you rush to get your sketchbook out. I’ll do my best to sketch a scene for you but I can’t promise it’ll be good. It won’t even be mediocre compared to what you could do. But I’ll try to do it justice so that you have some sort of sense of where I’ve been. We recently went through [CENSORED] and man, the smell of the pines. You know how the whole house smells when we’ve gotten the Christmas tree up in the living room? It smelled like that times ten. And we can see so many stars at night. I’ll try to sketch some of those for you too, bud.

When I look up at the night sky I think of when we were kids and we’d lay on our backs at the baseball field near your ma’s old apartment. Those were the days. Speaking of baseball, we went into a village the other day and Dum Dum revealed that he’s been carrying a ball with him this whole time so we played catch with some of the village kids. It was nice. One of their mothers gave us some of the hot soup she had made. Oh how it was so nice to have some warm, homemade food for once. We couldn’t understand a lick of what she was saying since she was speaking [CENSORED], but Dernier caught a few words here and there and conversed with her as best he could.

The fire is slowly dying so I’m running out of light. I look forward to hearing from you. Getting your letters is the highlight of my week.

Talk to you soon.

Sincerely yours,

Bucky

\--

June 15th, 1943

Stevie,

This might be my last correspondence with you for a while. We’re going on a mission that will take us too far away from the post and they’re not sure how to get our mail to us or how to send out the letters that we write. I can’t tell you anything more, I’m sorry.

I got your letter from May 30th. It’s really nice to hear about life back home, and I am sure the girls are doing their best to give you a hard time. I asked them to-- before I left for Europe I sat them all down while you were out one day and made them pinky promise me they’d look after you. I’m glad they’re keeping to it.

Has Ma’s victory garden survived? She’s never been much of a gardener, so I’m on the edge of my seat waiting to hear how the crop turns out. Give her a kiss for me, same for the girls.

Accompanying this letter is the promised sketch of the scenery and the stars. No, I don’t need you to write a critique on it. I know it doesn’t come close to the dada movement or whatever is "in" these days. But we’re not allowed to use the film for personal reasons, so this is the best you’re gonna get. Cherish it, put it on the wall next to the works of yours that Ma prizes. Mine will sure blend in. They won’t be able to tell who did it— me or you, our resident artiste.

I appreciate your reassurances, and am glad to hear it. The guys tried to set me up with a French nurse a couple weeks ago, but turns out she’s married. That was some good fortune. I didn’t try anything to begin with, before we found out she’s married— no need to worry about that. Your best guy is nothing but a gentleman. I politely declined their advances on my and her behalf. Dum Dum got a kick out of it.

Did I tell you about Dernier’s ma? She ran a bakery outside Paris. He goes on and on about her croissants and makes our mouths water.

Dum Dum is still with Darlene. He just got word that she’s pregnant, I guess he didn’t waste any time after we got back from training. They got married and everything. Doesn’t that sound nice? To be able to be married. I’m happy for him.

I do have to go though; we’re packing up and heading out tonight.

All my best,

Buck

P.S. I almost forgot to answer your question-- braiding is easiest when their hair is wet from the bath. Try it that way, then maybe Lizzie won’t have to yell at you. If you leave the braid in overnight, too, it’ll curl their hair nicely if they want to leave it down the next day.

—

June 30th, 1943

Mrs. Winifred Barnes, I regret to inform you that your son, James B. Barnes, service number 32557038, has been declared missing in action. His troop was lost behind enemy lines somewhere in Northern Italy and we were unable to send a rescue party.

Sincerely yours,

Colonel Chester J. Phillips

Commander, U.S. Army 107th

—


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky is no longer missing in action.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately, this is the last chapter, and it's a short one. Fortunately, I have a few outtakes I want to post within the next week or so which include the art that Bucky mentioned in Chapter 2. 
> 
> I also feel the need to be completely honest and say that I cried while writing this chapter.
> 
> One more thing: This chapter is dedicated to my friend, Caroline (rosesnfeathers on twitter and ao3). She encouraged me to write this and has been cheering me on throughout the process. :)

October 22nd, 1943

Stevie,

So, I’m alive. What a weird experience this must be to receive a letter from someone who’s been declared missing in action. Turns out that after those letters had been sent to all the families of the guys in my regiment Colonel Phillips and Agent Carter tried one last Hail Mary. And it worked! Because I’m writing you this letter and I’m no longer a prisoner of war. This is gonna be quite the shock for Ma. Hopefully you all are doing okay, all things considered. I’ve just been released from the hospital here and have been deemed fit for more service. Yippee. Back on super secret missions we go.

I know I said in my last letter before all of this hubbub that I wouldn’t be able to correspond too much with you, and I’m sorry to say that that is still the case. They haven’t let me look at the mail that got sent to me while I was on my last mission and while I was captured, so there’s probably a little bit I’m missing out on. I’ll try to ask about that later. But I just wanted to write you a quick note saying I’m alive and going back out into the field. Give my love to Ma and the girls.

Yours,

Bucky

\--

November 19th, 1943

Stevie,

The guys and I have gotten a furlough which means we get to explore the nearby town for the weekend and not have to worry about doing any official duty. We plan on using our time wisely and getting as drunk as humanly possible. When in [CENSORED], right? That bit probably got censored. A furlough can only mean one thing, though. They’re setting us up for a big one, a mother of all missions. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared. I’m shitting bricks. But someone’s gotta do what we do and we’re good at our jobs so it might as well be us.

We all got medals for our service / being taken prisoners. Uncle Sam basically patted us on the back and said, “Congratulations on being captured. Here’s a star made of metal.”

It’s been snowing here, and the villages are slowly getting into the holiday spirit. Too bad they don’t do Thanksgiving over here. What I wouldn't give for some of Ma’s mashed potatoes and gravy.

How is she, by the way? I feel bad for only writing to you but I know you share the shareable stuff with her so I don’t feel too guilty. I’ve written her a couple times, though. Just worried she’ll worry too much about me. How are the girls? How are you? Have you sold any more art? I still have the picture you drew me when I was back at training. Fortunately they didn’t make us strip or anything when they captured us so it’s still safe in my inner pocket. If I don’t get a chance to write to you between now and then, I hope you have a really nice Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year. I’m sorry I missed your birthday back in July.

Sincerely,

Bucky

\--

December 7th, 1943

Dear Stevie,

Turns out I do get a chance to write to you before Christmas! But now I really am not sure when I’ll get another chance after this one. They’re sending us even farther behind the lines as we were first told, and it’ll even be hard to communicate with base. It’s a good thing that Gabe is so good at radio operation. I’m sure he’ll be able to figure something out.

No need to worry about other stuff, right? We’re going to complete our mission and get to come home. Or at least back to base for a hot shower and warm chow. They’re not sure how long this mission will take, though. There’s not much that’s “known,” even in the army, huh? Nothing’s ever set in stone I guess. Agent Carter told me the other day that this mission is part of an even bigger operation, but she couldn’t tell me anything more. That’s all I got to know as the officer of the squad. The other guys know even less. We’re like sheep it seems. But sheep herding towards a good cause. And like I keep saying, if not me / us, someone else would have to carry it out and you know me and I know my boys, and none of us would want to put someone else in this position. We’re gonna do it. And we’re gonna come home. Happy holidays to you, Ma, and the girls.

Sincerely yours,

Buck

—

January 5th, 1944

Dear Mrs. Winifred Barnes,

I regret to inform you that your son, James B. Barnes, service number 32557038, has been reported killed in action on December 28th, 1943. He died in service for his country.

My condolences,

Colonel Chester J. Phillips

Commander, U.S. Army 107th

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, you can find me on twitter @/softbrooklynboy and Tumblr, @/hazeleyedcat. I would love to yell about these boys and this story and anything else with you.


	4. Outtakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short series of outtakes: a little bit of Bucky being home before shipping out to Europe, a couple letters from Steve to Bucky, among other things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that I'm so late to posting, and that I didn't get these up on the usual Tuesday, but I've been busy with work and school and haven't had much of a chance to get this all ready to be posted. But! The outtakes are finally here. I cried while writing that last letter from Steve, so just be prepared for that! Enjoy, but please excuse any typos :)

(Bucky comes home from boot camp. Insert between Chapters 1 and 2):

On the morning of March 5th Steve, Winifred, and Bucky’s three younger sisters Becca, Lizzie, and Ruth stood among the bustling commuters in Grand Central Station. Ruth bounced on her tiptoes while holding Steve’s hand, who in turn craned his neck trying to see who was getting on and off the trains. Becca and Lizzie stood next to their mother. A train whistle sounded throughout the terminal.

“Oooh, I bet that’s the one he’s on!” Ten-year-old Lizzie said excitedly. Ruth’s bouncing got quicker and she pulled on Steve’s hand. He looked down at her, and then kneeled when she began to whisper something to him. But before he could respond, Becca squealed and broke away from the family, tearing into a run. Bucky let out an oomph when she collided with him, but nevertheless pulled his teenage sister into a hug and swung her in a circle. The two other girls followed quickly and the four Barnes children ended up in a group hug teetering on a doggy pile. Winifred wiped tears from her eyes and approached her children, while Steve let them have their moment. He would get his.

“Hey, Ma!” Bucky said. He pulled her into a hug once his sisters had peeled off of him. Bucky had to bend over in order to give his mother a proper hug; Winifred Barnes was not a very tall woman. Bucky got his height from his father who had passed away right after Ruth had been born, nearly eight years ago.

“Did they feed you enough?” Winifred asked. Bucky chuckled, making eye contact with Steve over his mother’s head. “Yeah, Ma, they fed me alright.”

And then it was Steve’s turn to receive a bone crushing hug from Bucky, one that almost knocked the wind out of him. Steve buried his face into Bucky’s chest, reveling in the warmth and security he had missed for three months. Pulling away, he looked up to search Bucky’s face, to make sure he was actually here and Steve wasn’t dreaming. Bucky met his eyes and winked. Then he pulled Steve so that he was tucked into his side and they began their walk out to the car.

Bucky was home for only ten days— long enough to spend his birthday with his family before he received notice that they were pushing his ship day sooner than originally planned. Before he knew it he was back at Grand Central Station. He held his mother and sisters tight before he kissed their tear-stained cheeks, promising he would write whenever he got the chance. The last person he hugged was Steve; just as bone crushing, if not more, than their hug when he had gotten back from training. Bucky held his own tears back and tried his hardest to look calm and brave. He didn’t want his girls or Steve to see that he was struggling with their goodbyes.

Steve sniffled as they parted. “You better write to me too, jerk,” he said, voice wet.

“You know I’ll write to you the most, punk,” Bucky replied. He pulled Steve into another hug. “Stay safe, Buck. Come home to me in one piece.” Steve’s voice was muffled by Bucky’s shoulder, but Bucky heard him well enough anyway.

“I’m the one who's supposed to say that to you,” he chuckled.

“Well, I’m not the one going off to war, now am I?” Steve pulled back to give Bucky a petulant look. Bucky chuckled again. The train blew its whistle twice, indicating final boarding, and Bucky sighed. He waved to his mother and sisters, and gave Steve one final, lingering look. Steve knew what that look meant, and he did his best to mirror it. Bucky turned, hoisted his bag onto his shoulder, and made his way to board the train with the rest of the soldiers and general passengers.

He disappeared for a moment but then popped his head out of a window towards the back of the train. Bucky waved to his family until the train pulled completely away from the station.

\--

(Letter from Steve to Bucky, insert in Chapter 2 after Bucky's letter dated May 22, 1943)

May 30th, 1943

Dear Bucky,

First of all, I’m really glad to hear from you. I got both of your letters, the one from the 17th and the 22nd. I’m doing okay, my asthma is acting up every so often with the change of the seasons, but your ma is keeping a close eye on me. She’s almost as good at hovering over me as you are. I don’t mind it though. What’s that? I can finally admit that I don’t mind help from others? That’s character development, jerk. I haven’t been getting in as many fights either, but I did almost fight a boy from Becca’s class. He was coming on too strong so I got rid of him. Now just Becca and I go to the motion pictures together. It’s really nice. It’s not quite the same without you— we both miss you terribly. So do the other girls and your ma. She’s asked Father Lawrence to include you and your boys in his weekly prayer, so the whole congregation has been praying for you.

I took Ruth and Lizzie to Coney Island this past weekend. It’s not as busy with all the guys away at war. But they had a great time and Ruth asked me when we’re going back. I sold some of the art I’ve been working on so I have a few extra dollars this month so I told her it’d be soon. Speaking of art, I can’t wait to get your renditions of the scenery you’ve gotten to see. You want a critique of ‘em when I do?

On a more serious note, I don’t like your implications, James Barnes. Of course I’ll wait for you. I’d wait for you til the sun exploded. Hell, I’d wait even after that happened. No one else could ever catch my eye, or drag me out from behind a dumpster the way you can. How romantic, huh?

Sorry to hear about the guy from the other company.

It’s you and me til the end like you said all those years ago. No, I haven’t forgotten. How could I?

Your letter from the 22nd was censored a few times, although I’m assuming it was just because you mentioned something too specific about a place you’d been and a language the village woman spoke. Just wanted to let you know, though, so you don’t do that again and you keep yourself safer. I don’t need to know every detail, I just need to know you’re as safe as you can be, given the circumstances. I wish I was over there with you, but Uncle Sam had other plans for me I guess.

Your ma bought a war bond the other day, and she’s even started a victory garden. Becca’s been doing her hair up in these “victory curls,” because she says that all the other girls in school are doing it. She taught me how to braid hair so I could help her and your ma with the younger girls since you’re gone. That’s hard work, Buck. Lizzie yelled at me the other day because I guess I didn’t make her braids tight enough and they came out at school. I’m learning, I’m learning. It’s a slow process. We’ll get there.

She reminds me a lot like you: she’s not afraid to tell me off, even though she’s ten. She’s getting tall, too. So is Ruthie. Soon they’ll both pass me up. Then it’ll just be me and your ma on the lower side of 5 feet.

Lizzie is yelling at me to get inside before the sun goes down all the way. I thought maybe with you gone I wouldn’t get bossed around as much, but they’re filling your shoes just fine. But it still doesn’t compare to the real thing.

I miss you. But don’t go doing something reckless that’ll get you discharged. Come back to me in one piece, Buck. Try to do that for me.

With love,

Steve

\--

(After Bucky was captured by the Germans, Becca wrote him a letter. Insert after Chapter 2, but before Chapter 3)

July 5th, 1943

Jamie,

Please tell me it isn’t true. I don’t know what I’ll do if you really aren’t coming home. Please write back. They sent Ma a letter saying you’re missing in action and I know that’s just one step away from being dead, but there’s still hope, right? It wasn’t a letter saying you were killed in action. That’s a lot more final. Please, Jamie. Anything.

Love,

Becca

—

(Steve's reaction to finding out Bucky is actually alive. Insert after Bucky's first letter in Chapter 3)

Steve didn’t know how to handle this. Bucky was… alive? But just a few months ago his commanding officer had written and said he was missing in action. How could this be? Well, Bucky had explained it as much as he could in his last letter, so Steve knew how it could be. But he still wasn’t quite sure. He compared the date of Colonel Phillip’s letter with the date of Bucky’s most recent, and all signs pointed to Bucky being alive. Bucky was alive. Steve took a deep breath and went to tell Winifred.

\--

(Winifred and Steve find out Bucky has died. Insert after Colonel Phillip's letter at the very end of Chapter 3)

The letter shook in Winifred’s hand as her other hand covered her mouth. Steve crossed the Barnes’ living room and took the letter from her, reading it for himself.

The world went silent; he couldn’t stop re-reading the phrase “killed in action.” Tears pricked his eyes and he had to hold back the urge to scream. His face screwed tightly and he couldn’t stop the tears from finally flowing.

The next thing he heard was the door open and Becca’s voice asking for her mother. Winifred looked over at her eldest daughter, hand still covering her mouth, eyes unfocused.

“Ma? Steve?” Becca repeated. Steve turned to her and shook his head gently, tears still streaming down his cheeks. Becca dropped her books and ran toward Winifred.

“How will we tell Lizzie and Ruth?” Winifred said, almost inaudibly. The two younger Barnes girls were still on their way home from school.

“I’ll meet them outside and bring them in,” Steve whispered. He moved towards the door on muscle memory.

Sometimes when Bucky would get off work early he and Steve used to sit on the front stoop of the Barnes’ family home and wait for the girls to get back from school. But this time, Steve sat on the top step and waited with his head in his hands, wondering how he would tell the young girls that their brother would never come home. Would they understand what it meant?

Steve wiped his eyes and looked up when he heard Ruth’s voice excitedly talking to Lizzie. They were holding hands and Ruth was almost skipping, pulling Lizzie along.

“Steve!” Lizzie shouted. Steve forced himself to stand, smile, and wave.

—

(Steve writes one final letter to Bucky.)

March 10, 1944

Dear Bucky,

It’s been a while since we got the letter saying you’re really gone but I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that I’ll never get to hear your voice or feel your heartbeat while we sleep again. Today’s your birthday and we’re all not doing great, but your ma is doing her best to stay strong for the girls. I caught her crying in the kitchen this morning before the girls had gotten out of bed so I gave her a hug. She hugged me back with such strength that for a second I thought I was hugging you. Then I started to cry.

The army is paying us a bereavement gratuity so there’s still some income coming in, but I’ve gotten a job drawing comics for the paper so we’ll have that money too. I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. I guess I just figure you’d be worried about us even in death.

That’s not possible. You’re gone, and you can’t feel anything.

Your funeral was nice, as funerals go. Father Lawrence did the service and Becca did the eulogy. Your ma asked me if I wanted to say a few words but I couldn’t speak. It felt like my words got lost in my throat and there wasn’t a connection between my mouth and my brain. No matter how many times I swallowed my throat stayed dry.

Sometimes I wake up and think it was all a bad dream. Well, maybe I don’t think. I hope beyond hope that it was just a nightmare and I’ll wake up to a letter from you. I don’t know how I’m gonna get through this, Buck. I don’t know how I could lose you after losing my ma. This all feels like some sick joke God is playing on me.

This letter won’t be sent anywhere so I’m just gonna say it outright. I love you, Bucky Barnes. I always have and I always will. And I wish we could’ve been married like Dum Dum and Darlene, and I wish we didn’t have to censor our own letters. If I could, I’d tell everyone about the love of my life: James Buchanan Barnes.

There will never be another you. There will never be me + somebody else. It’s you, and it’s always been you, and it always will be you, and I’ll keep your memory with me til the day I die. I'll request to be buried next to your plot. Our headstones will be like my parents’.

Buck, you died for your country and I only wish I had been there with you. I’ll do my best to live my life in your memory. Don’t worry too much about the girls and your ma. I’ll take care of them for you.

Sincerely and forever yours,

Stevie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts, your reactions, your favorite part(s), anything at all!


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